Neptune's Fury

by J. Clifton Slater

  “In the grand scheme of things, although you have decidedly dispatched an enemy,” Pejus offered. “there remains a quandary.”

  “What are you going on about, master engineer?” Alerio inquired.

  “Why did the assassins, who were bent on revenge,” Pejus questioned. “wait to attack you until the hull was complete? But also sabotaged the ship building process to delay the construction of the hull?”

  “You are as baffling as the Sphinx,” Cata suggested.

  “Why is a Goddess bewildering?” Pejus inquired.

  “Before any traveler was allowed to enter Thebes,” Cata, the Greek boat builder, informed them. “The Goddess Sphinx demanded they attempt to answer a riddle.”

  “Are you saying Master Monilis reminds you of a Greek Goddess?” Alerio questioned. “Because if you are, I don’t see it.”

  “Not in looks but in delivering a riddle,” Cata replied.

  “I thought the riddle of the Sphinx was unanswerable,” Alerio remarked. “Just as the answer to Pejus’ quandary is unresolvable.”

  “All riddles have an answer,” Cata advised. “or else there is no purpose to asking. For example, the riddle of the Sphinx: what goes on four legs at dawn, two legs at noon, and three legs in the evening?”

  “Unknowable,” Pejus declared. “It isn’t a logical quiz. Thus, it’s an arcane question requiring an inscrutable answer, fit only for philosophical discussions.”

  “As is your quandary,” Alerio said. “At least the unknown part.”

  “But the riddle of the Sphinx has an answer,” Cata explained. "Man, who as a baby crawls on four legs, then walks on two legs as an adult, and in old age walks with a cane as his third leg.”

  “Babies and old men?” Pejus exploded. “I knew it, an answer for philosophers.”

  “That doesn’t get us closer to the solution for the riddle of Pejus.” Alerio scoffed.

  “Because, Centurion Sisera, you killed the men who had the answer,” Pejus responded. “I’ve had enough of this. I’m going to check the measurements on the ship’s ribs.”

  “You do that master engineer,” Alerio said. “And I’m going to see about a burial detail.”

  The two masters went to check on the progress of the crews, and Alerio waited for the laborers on the early shift to go. He would pick the gravediggers from the ones who started work later in the day. As he waited, the riddle of Pejus gnawed at the back of his mind.

  Act 5

  Chapter 18 - Absence of Collateral

  Two days after the assault, Alerio walked proudly between carpenter stations. At each, craftsmen cut and shaped benches and posts with angled cuts at both ends. One journeyman held a bench and demonstrated to his apprentice how the posts fit below the seat to support an oarsman. Other carpenters cut long cedar posts and shaped spruce planks for the decking.

  Not everything was available in the town of Stifone or the surrounding area. Most of the material for weaving rope had been used to construct additional hypozomatas. The locals would only give up so much of the fiber and, the need for the stabilizing lines shorted the trireme. Also unavailable were large sections of cloth for the two sails. However, both the rigging and sails were available at the Republic’s naval base at Ostia. And oddly enough, the territory was deficient in another element.

  Copper from numerous mines was a major export for Umbria. While rich in copper, the area did not have tin mines. As a result, Pejus and Cata could not cast the bronze battering ram. The main weapon for the warship would be supplied and fitted by the navy.

  On one hand, it hurt Alerio’s pride. On the other, it was a relief to avoid the extra days required for the process. Then he heard his name and turned from the work stations to watch a militiaman sprint towards him.

  “Centurion Sisera. I was sent to ask you to join Optio Florian at the Legion office,” the man announced. “They said it was urgent.”

  “I’ll be right along and…,” the Legion officer started to reply. Then, his training as a weapon’s instructor interrupted his thought. “Where is your sword, spear, and shield?”

  It was a foolish question. The militiaman probably dropped the heavy weaponry so he could run faster. Or, he was off duty and ‘volunteered’ by the Sergeant for the mission. Yet even unarmed, he wore the leather armor of the Stifone militia.

  “Sir, Tesserarius Humi said we didn’t need the war gear,” the Umbrian related. “on account that the militia has been disbanded.”

  “You mean, Optio Florian said that?” Alerio ventured.

  “No sir. It was the Corporal.”

  “The Centurion is always the last to know,” Alerio said before breaking into a jog.

  Something was very wrong with his chain of command. And it left a sour taste in his mouth, along with a twisting in his gut and a sense of foreboding.

  ***

  The premonition solidified into an ugly scenario while he raced across the sand bar. Pairs of Legion heavy infantrymen occupied each level of Stifone. Also, a pair stood on either side of his office door. In total, they looked to number about eighty, meaning a Century had come to visit.

  Having a Legion unit at Stifone and another infantry officer for company should be a good thing. Except, the armor and helmets matched as if purchased yesterday from an armorer. Combined with the orders issued by his Corporal, someone was paying out a lot of coins to outfit a Century so they matched and resembled toy soldiers. Plus, there was a lack of a standard identifying them as a unit from the Northern Legion. Altogether, the items plucked at Alerio’s instincts. His stomach continued to revolt as he stepped up on the riverbank.

  Jogging up the steps to the first tier, he approached a squad leader.

  “What’s your Century’s designation, Lance Corporal?” Alerio asked the Decanus.

  The NCO seemed surprised that Alerio spoke to him. He recovered and replied, “First Century Subausterus.”

  Rich associates had the opportunity to invest in arming and training Centuries. Usually, the units were sent to join a Legion. However, before the unit reported in, the Century was nothing more than a mercenary company doing the bidding of its benefactor. The title, First Century Subausterus, did nothing to ease Alerio’s anxieties.

  “Dear Goddess Orbona,” Alerio offered. “Don’t you salute infantry officers in your Century, Lance Corporal?”

  “Sir, we do,” the squad leader assured him. Then he saluted.

  Alerio rubbed his forehead as he climbed the next set of steps. His reference to the Goddess who granted children to childless couples just slipped out. But Tribune Subausterus with a Century under his command was exactly like an inept father with eighty toddlers. Given what he knew about the Tribune’s dismissal of Florian and Humi earlier, Alerio couldn’t imagine the staff officer being able to manage eight squads of heavy infantrymen. Alerio hoped Subausterus’ Centurion and his NCOs were very good at their jobs.

  ***

  He reached the building designated the Legion office in Stifone and stopped.

  “Are you blind or stupid?” Alerio demanded of the two sentries at the doorway.

  “Ah, no sir,” one answered.

  “No sir, what?” Alerio questioned. “Maybe one of each? Which one is stupid and which one is blind?”

  “Sir, I don’t understand,” the other guard informed Alerio.

  “Is there any mistaking my officer’s helmet or the markings on my armor?”

  “No, sir,” they both replied.

  “Then it’s decided because I don’t see a salute or the door opened for me,” Alerio scolded the Legionaries. “Be sure to make a sacrifice to your God Coalemus to thank him for the gift of stupid.”

  One leaned across and opened the door while the other saluted. Alerio marched over the threshold and the sentry pulled the door closed. In truth the two guards were selected for door duty for their size and not for their sharp intellect.

  “Mars spare us,” their squad leader declared when he rushed up. “Do you know who that
was?”

  “Lance Corporal Italus, why all the questions this morning?” one of the Legionaries complained. “You said this would be easy duty.”

  “He was a typical officer,” the other door guard observed. “Pushy and demanding, what else?”

  “That, my thick-headed squad mates, is Death Caller,” Hallus Italus informed them. “He’s a Legion weapons’ instructor with the Goddess Nenia looking over his shoulder. And sometimes, she takes control and guides his gladius arm.”

  “You served with him, didn’t you?”

  “In Sicilia, but he wasn’t an officer then,” Italus commented. “He was my Tesserarius.”

  “What’s he doing here?” one asked.

  “I don’t know why a hero of the Republic,” the squad leader admitted. “would be stationed in a backwater village like Stifone.”

  ***

  The door closed behind Alerio and it took a heartbeat for his eyes to adjust. His desk and a Centurion sitting in his chair came into view.

  “Are you comfortable?” Alerio inquired. “Would you like some refreshments? But maybe you should be asking me what I want. You seem to have made yourself at home in my office.”

  “Over one million six hundred thousand silver,” the officer commented. He indicated the stacks of promissory notes cluttering the desktop. “Is that correct?”

  Alerio started to answer but was interrupted. Corporal Humi and Tribune Subausterus’ servant Teucer, stepped forward.

  “One million eighty-eight thousand, Centurion,” Humi advised the infantry officer.

  “Plus, one hundred seventy-three silver coins, to be precise,” Teucer added. “All unsecured and fraudulently procured.”

  “Hold!” Alerio barked. “Would someone care to explain what, in the name of Discordia, is going on here?”

  “I, Centurion Lucius Trioboli, arrest you Alerio Sisera for the following. You are charged with using the name of the Senate to extract coins and goods from an ally of the Republic,” the Centurion explained. “Further, you are accused of creating a false organization in order to enrich your estate. And, by such actions, you have endangered the peace between the Umbria people and the Republic.”

  The words rocked Alerio and anger boiled up in his chest. A quick glance around showed him there were at least four Legionaries in the shadows, including the servant and his Corporal, standing around the room. Forcing down his need to strike out, Alerio allowed the tension to drain from his chest and arms.

  “Teucer said unsecured,” Alerio prompted everyone in the room. “We have a trireme, fully hulled and ready for the final phase of interior installation. That is where the coins and goods went.”

  Lucius Trioboli cocked his head and pursed his lips as if impatient for an answer he knew was coming. He added the curling of his fingers in a bring-it-on motion.

  “Tribune Subausterus has declared the trireme a mockup,” Teucer proclaimed. “An unusable model that would sink and break apart when launched. It was designed only to fool casual observers and never intended to be a ship-of-war for the Republic.”

  “That is insane,” Alerio shouted. “Where is the Tribune? I would have words with him.”

  “Tribune Subausterus is delayed in the Capital,” Teucer replied. “But his decree is confirmed. The mockup is to be burned and you, Centurion Alerio Sisera, returned to the senate in chains for trial.”

  “Subausterus hasn’t been here for any of the construction,” Alerio informed the infantry officer. “How could he have reached such an obviously wrong conclusion?”

  Centurion Trioboli shifted his gaze from Alerio to Humi.

  “I have kept the Tribune informed of your treachery,” the Corporal stated.

  Alerio was jolted by the declaration. The trust between a Centurion and a Tesserarius went beyond an officer’s reliance on an NCO. The Corporal of a Century was in charge of the accounting books and the coins for pay and burial funds. Humi’s betrayal cut deep and Alerio couldn’t bring himself to look at the Corporal.

  “You, my Tesserarius, lying about our progress?” Alerio stammered with his eyes downcast to the floor boards. At the mention of progress, the word flipped in his mind, and Alerio thought delays and vandalism and his eyes shot up to stare at the Tesserarius. “You. You are the saboteur.”

  “I prefer to think of myself as an agent for good,” Humi responded. “And now that you know, I resign my Tesserarius rank and, reclaim my position as head scribe to the Subausterus family.”

  Disgusted with Humi, Alerio turned his face to the seated infantry officer.

  “You can’t burn the trireme,” Alerio told Centurion Trioboli. “I sent letters to Fleet Praetor Sudoris and Senator Spurius Maximus, informing them of our progress.”

  Teucer lifted a pouch that hung at his side and upended it over the desk. Alerio’s letters spilled out, as well as Pejus Monilis’ letter to his family.

  “To prevent you from poisoning others or eliciting them to join in your charade, Master Humi acted,” Centurion Lucius Trioboli revealed. “Optio. Is there a suitable cell in this village?”

  Alerio’s heart sank. Bracing himself, he peered around to see who was being addressed by Lucius Trioboli. A sigh of relief escaped Alerio when an unknown Sergeant stepped forward and not Optio Florian.

  “It’s been a long night,” Alerio declared. “There’s a root cellar at the top tier. Take me there, give me vino, cheese and bread, and let me get some sleep.”

  The abrupt end to his defense and declaration of wanting to sleep rather than challenge the charges struck Humi, Trioboli, and Teucer as strange. But, their part of the play was done and if the victim wanted to end his protests, they would oblige.

  “Optio. Take the Centurion’s gladius and pugio,” Trioboli ordered. “and escort him to the root cellar. We leave tomorrow after the laborers are dismissed. Be sure you have guards posted until then.”

  His blades were removed and a pair of Legionaries led Alerio out of the room. On the street, the familiar voice of Hallus Italus instructed a half squad to surround Centurion Sisera.

  When the Century’s Optio stepped to the front of the formation, Lance Corporal Italus eased in next to Alerio.

  “Sisera, what’s going on?” he whispered.

  “I’ve been arrested,” Alerio replied.

  “I can see that,” Italus said. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

  “Get word to Optio Florian that they plan to burn the trireme and erase all signs of it,” Alerio replied.

  “Decanus Italus, it there a problem?” the Optio asked from the front of the formation.

  “No Sergeant, just warning the detail about spacing,” Italus lied.

  Alerio had more, a lot more he wanted to say to Centurion Trioboli. But, when Pejus Monilis’ letter fell from the pouch, he realized the danger. Tribune Subausterus would go to extraordinary lengths in eliminating Stifone as a shipbuilding facility.

  Putting Alerio on trial was necessary to make the case for the abandonment of Stifone. Why discard the town and its resources, he wasn’t sure? But, simply burning the warship and removing the collateral for the bills of lading, wouldn’t erase the witnesses. Sometime that night, assassins would kill Optio Florian, Cata Pous, and Pejus Monilis. It was the only logical course of action. If Subausterus really wanted to place all the blame on a dishonest junior Centurion gone rogue, the others associated with building the ship had to be removed.

  It’s why Alerio stopped protesting. Hopefully, Centurion Trioboli wouldn’t think of rounding up and arresting Florian, Pous, and Monilis. A slaughter in a holding cell in front of Legionaries would be harder to hide than covertly cutting the throats of the NCO, engineer, and boat builder in the dead of night. Nevertheless, Alerio didn’t want to force the arrests by emphasizing his colleagues. He needed them free.

  The formation climbed the steps and Alerio yawned. It had been a long night and a trying morning. Besides hungry, he was sleepy but, more importantly, he was furious.

&n
bsp; Chapter 19 - There is Nothing in Between

  Adamo Florian and Tite Roscini forced their way between thick tree branches. Neither man noticed the slope hidden by the boughs. Florian tripped on a root, went to his knees and, slid down the embankment. Roscini, on the back end of the carrying pole, got yanked over the edge. Together they careened down the slope.

  The Legion Optio, the carcass of a large deer, and the militia Lieutenant came to a stop in a jumble of bows, arrows, fur, antlers, arms and, legs. Laughing, they untangled, repositioned the pole on their shoulders, balanced the deer, and started downhill again.

  “I told you, Latian, I should be in the lead,” Tite Roscini warned. “I am Umbria and we are mountain people. You are from the flatland and I take my life into my hands by following you.”

  “If you are so good in the mountains, Tite,” Florian inquired. “Why was it my arrow that brought down the buck?”

  “Perhaps I drove the noble animal into your kill zone,” Lieutenant Tite Roscini offered.

  “I assumed you were lost in the woods until I called for you,” Sergeant Florian teased.

  “Umbrians are never lost in the woods,” Roscini boasted.

  Before dawn they had crossed the Nera and climbed into the mountains. In the weak light of the rising sun, they followed a game trail until spotting the buck. Silent stalking and skilled hunting techniques allowed them to get close to the animal.

  They split apart and, shortly after losing sight of each other, the deer broke in Adamo Florian’ direction. He brought it down with an arrow through the animal’s heart. The hoofs were tied over a long pole and the two hunters took the trail down from the higher elevation.

  “I have to relieve Centurion Sisera,” Optio Florian remarked. “You boasted of your roasting skills. Here’s your chance to prove it.”

  “The Roscini are famous far and wide for our mastery of cooking wild venison,” Tite boasted.

  “I thought your family were farmers?” Florian questioned.

  They came to a chute with steep sides. Hopping from rock to rock to stay out of the fast running creek and off the slick stones, the men worked their way down to the edge of the Nera.